Under the Radar
by flockgrl18
Summary: Max is only a CIA trainee when she is suddenly thrust into the field. Iggy becomes her handler. Fang becomes her partner, her best friend...maybe more? Max enjoys all the thrills of being a spy until things start going south... when her ex, Dylan, emerges from nowhere. Her past, present, and future collide in the worst way possible.
1. Orders are Orders

**All these years have passed and I still love Maximum Ride…still my favorite series of all time.**

**Sigh. I'm hopeless lol!**

**I haven't written anything in the longest time…school has become ruthless.**

**But this idea has been killing me! I want to write a spy story. Like the CIA or something. So I'm starting one, right now!**

**Covert Affairs is my inspiration, because that show is just pure awesomeness.**

**Peace, guys. Hope ya like.**

**Flockgrl18.**

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><p><strong>VPOV<strong>

"Hello, Valencia," Jeb greeted, as I stepped forward to his desk.

"What is this about, Jeb? I was just debriefing Fang on Vladimir Petrova," I said, slightly annoyed. I hated being pulled from my duties.

Jeb looked at me curiously. "Did Fang find anything new?"

I shook my head. "Nothing at all. I can have him get closer—"

"No," he cut me off. "We don't want to expose Fang. Have him keep his distance. However," he slid a folder across his desk. "I think _she _would be perfect for the job."

I opened the folder. It was a profile on one of our agents in training. "Sir?" I asked, confused. "This girl is a trainee…it would be risky putting her in the field."

"Oh, I beg to differ. Check out her scores from the Farm," he said. The Farm was what we called our training center, off in the suburbs of Colorado.

I sighed and skimmed through the file.

_General Information_

_Name: Maximum "Max" Ride_

_Age: 22_

_Height: 5'8"_

_Weight: 100lbs_

_Eye Color: Brown _

_Hair Color: Dirty Blonde_

_Ethnicity: Half Hispanic, Half Caucasian. _

_Skills Assessment (Rating 1-10)_

_Hand-to-Hand combat: 10_

_Wrestling: 10 _

_Long range shooting: 10_

_Weapon Assembling/Disassembling: 10_

_Running: 10 (Long dist. + short dist.)_

_Driving: 10_

I stopped there. "She has all 10s…how is that possible? The only agent who has _ever_ done that is—"

"Fang. I know," Jeb said. "Which is why I think she'd not only be a perfect partner for Fang, but I think she'd also be quite useful in our case with Vladimir."

I looked back at the file. _Extra Skills: Boxing, Karate (Black Belt), fluent in six different languages—_"She speaks _six_ languages?" I said, impressed. "I'm guessing one of them is Russian?"

Jeb smirked. "Absolutely."

I was pretty shocked. She gives Fang a run for his money. "I will pull her from the Farm immediately."

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><p><strong>MPOV<strong>

"Surely you can tell me _something!"_ I exclaimed.

The guard escorting me sighed. "Look miss, for the fifth time, I have no idea why you are being pulled out of training. All I know is that the General wants to see you immediately." I heard that seeing the General meant trouble, so naturally I wanted to know what was going on.

I turned on the guard again. "You interfered with my target shooting, you know," I said bitterly. I loved target shooting. There I was, popping targets left and right when _this idiot_ came out of nowhere, making me shoot a tree instead of my target. "Couldn't you have waited 'til I was done?"

"Orders are orders, ma'am," he muttered. I huffed and glared at him.

He left me upon reaching the General's office.

"Door's open, Ride," the General said. He was an angry looking man. Seriously. He was frowning, like, all the time.

"Sir, if this is about my target shooting today, I must say it really wasn't my—" I started.

"Relax, Ride. You're not in any trouble," the General said.

I sighed, relieved, and was about to sit down when the General stopped me. "Don't sit; no time for that."

I looked at him, confused. "Sir?"

"You're going in the field."

"What?!" I almost fell on my butt in surprise. I looked at him with wide eyes and stuttered, "B-But my training, I'm—I'm not even done—"

"Orders are orders. Someone higher up clearly wants you. First thing tomorrow. I suggest you leave as soon as possible. Report to Langley at 10 AM, sharp." He handed me some papers and shooed me out of his office.

Langley. I was going to CIA headquarters. I was going in the field.

…As a trainee.

Go figure.

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><p><em>Preview for chapter 2:<br>_

_Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious stepped over to us. His face was impassive, but I swear I saw his facials twitch with my retort. "You think you got what it takes to turn one of the most dangerous men in the world?"_

_"No, I _know _I do. So what's your problem?" I asked bitterly._

_"My problem is that I keep being told to stand down, and now they are throwing some _trainee _in to do my mission," he said, even closer to me now._

_"Well sorry to wake you up, sleeping beauty, but maybe you need a reality check. Because it seems to me that _clearly_ you aren't as skillful as you think you are."_

_"I'll have you know I scored a 10 on all my exams back on the Farm," he growled._

_"Ha!" I placed my hands on my hips, grinning up at him smugly. "I'll have you know that I did, too!"_

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><p><strong>Just an intro! Read on for more excitement! Next up: Fang, Iggy, and the Gasman!<strong>

Review and tell me whatcha think! Like so far?

**:)**


	2. Welcome to the CIA

**As one reviewer pointed out, the last chapter was indeed an intro chapter. This is much, much longer and more detailed and exciting. Enjoy! **

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><p><em>The next morning – 10 AM<em>

Here I was sitting in Langley's parking lot, thinking _What did they want me to do? _ Was I going to another country? Maybe I'd get lucky and they'd send me to Paris, or Rome. Maybe even Spain. I could run with the bulls…or maybe I could meet some romantic Spanish guy who could sweep me off my feet and take me away into the sunset…

I snorted at my thoughts. How cheesy. And unreal. Love like that doesn't exist.

Well, I didn't think so. Not after my last boyfriend. But more on him later.

I shook off the dark thoughts and sighed loudly. _This will be easy. Whatever it is, you can do it_, I told myself.

I looked at myself in the rearview mirror of my car. I slowly pulled off my sunglasses. "Ride. Maximum Ride," I said, dramatically. I chuckled and shook my head. Who am I kidding, I am _far_ from James Bond status.

I got out of my car and walked towards the building. I was almost to the front entrance when I heard someone say, "This late to the CIA? You _must_ be new."

I stopped abruptly, looking up at the man who came up beside me. He had chestnut brown hair, with beautiful tortoiseshell eyes. I admit, he was pretty cute.

I rose one eyebrow at the man, noticing his ID badge. "And you are clearly _not_ new. So aren't you late as well?"

He grinned. "Good eye. I'm Sam."

He held out his hand, which I shook. "Max," I replied with a smile. "Did I look that clueless?"

"No not at all!" Sam chuckled and held the glass doors open for me. "I'll show you where to get your ID."

I eyed him curiously. "So is this your thing?" I asked, still smiling. "You wait outside the entrance and chat up girls on their first day?"

"Why absolutely! I'm lazy _and_ predatory," he said, shooting me a crooked smile. I decided I liked that crooked smile.

Sam pointed to the left as we entered the building. "If you go in through that door, security will help get you set up."

"Thanks," I replied, and he winked at me before walking away.

I took one more deep breath.

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><p>"Now, this is a standard polygraph test. All new agents are required to take one upon their arrival here at Langley. After this you'll need to sign some papers before receiving your ID. Are you ready to begin?"<p>

I tried not to glare at the man sitting across from me. He wore small round glasses, had brown skin, and dark hair. He couldn't be more than 25 years old. He also looked way more comfortable than I did.

I knew I had to sit through this, but the wires were quite unnerving. They were strapped to my fingers and my temples and my chest; I felt like a specimen, a test subject.

I didn't like it.

But being the tough cookie I am, I took a deep breath and nodded to the man. "Let's make this quick."

He pressed some keys on the computer in front of him before speaking. "Please answer with yes or no only. I'll start a with a few basic questions." He glanced down at what I could assume was my file, because it looked identical to the one the General had back at the Farm. "It says here your name is Maximum Ride?"

"Yes," I answered.

"And you are 22 years old?"

"Yes."

"It also says that you reside in Washington D.C., is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You speak six languages?"

I nodded. "I travel a lot. Languages come naturally to me."

"A 'Yes' or 'No' would be fine."

_Really?_ I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes," I replied, rather curtly.

He flipped through my file and pressed a few more keys. "Alright. I'm going to move on to some more personal questions. Your file says your last relationship ended two years ago, is that right?"

I paused. It was a slight pause, one that a normal person wouldn't detect. But this guy sure did.

"Yes, that is correct," I answered quickly.

He just plowed on. "You met abroad?"

Although this was a painful memory, I found myself smiling slightly. "Yes, in Sri Lanka. I was backpacking...he was teaching at a university there." _Dylan..._

The guy blinked. "That's impulsive."

I frowned. I didn't need his opinion. "Is that a question?"

"Was the sex good?"

My eyebrows shot up and I stifled a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Yes or no, please."

I smirked. _It rocked_, I thought. But out loud, I simply said, "Oh yes."

The man paused. "Were you in love?"

"Yes. We were in love," I answered quietly.

He flipped through some more pages and cleared his throat. "But your relationship ended badly?"

I grit my teeth and shut my eyes. These questions were definitely getting personal.

Images flashed through my mind as I thought back to the day Dylan left.

**_Flashback_**

Opening my eyes, I saw the sun streaming through the curtains. It was a warm, happy glow, kind of like how I was feeling after the night I just had. The night _we_ just had.

"That was..._amazing_..." I mused aloud, still sleepy.

Upon hearing no reply, I rolled over in bed, only to find that the man I was looking for was gone. "Dylan?" I called, hesitantly. No answer.

Then I saw it. In the midst of our crumpled white sheets was a note sitting atop of Dylan's pillow.

I picked it up, feeling numb, and read:

_The truth is complicated._

_Please forgive me._

**_End flashback_**

And that was it. That was the last time I saw Dylan.

"Miss Ride?"

The man's voice snapped me out of my reverie. "Yes," I said. It most certainly ended badly.

"And did that bother you?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes at the man. Is he for real? "After a three week whirlwind romance, my supposed dream guy left me in the middle of the night with a cryptic note and bar tab for fifty dollars. Wouldn't that bother you?" I said, coldly.

He simply replied with, "I'm looking for a yes or no." Of course you are.

"Can you repeat the question?" I snapped.

"The question is this, Miss Ride." The man leaned a tad closer. "If you join the CIA, can you separate your work from your personal life?"

That was when I lifted my chin, set my jaw, and answered, with the utmost confidence, "Yes. Absolutely."

* * *

><p>After the polygraph came a series of fingerprint and retina scanning, along with pages of paperwork and contracts needing to be signed. A half hour later, I walked out of security with a new ID. I was officially an agent for the CIA, and it felt <em>good.<em>

The moment I walked out, though, I immediately noticed a strange green light scan over my body briefly, from head to toe. I looked up and found a guy standing just in front of me. He was holding what looked like a laser pointer, except slightly longer.

"Max Ride?" the guy asked. He looked to be about six feet tall, with strawberry blonde hair and a lovely pair of blue eyes. His gaze was slightly off—not looking directly at me, but kind of above my shoulders.

"Yes?" I answered.

He gave me a friendly smile and held out his hand. "James Griffiths, but you can call me Iggy. Head of Tech Ops, and your friendly neighborhood cruise director. Walk with me."

I blinked, but found myself following Iggy. I mean, I wasn't really told what to do next, so I figured Iggy was my next best step.

As he led me through the halls, I noticed that his laser pointer was emitting that strange green light again—this time in shapes of overlapping circles. He kept shining it on the floor in front of him as he walked, and I guessed it was like some sort of hi-tech cane. I wasn't too surprised; after all, he _is_ Tech Ops.

"The blind guy leading you around the CIA—" Iggy started with a smirk. "Insert ironic joke here."

I gave a small laugh. "No problems on my end. You've been here longer than I have."

"Not too long, though," he said. "There was a hiring freeze for the longest time after 9/11. Now over half of everyone here today has about five years of experience or less."

"Well that explains why everybody is so young. I find that both…inspiring and weirdly unsettling," I muttered, unsure of how I feel.

"You'll find this is a weird place to work. Polygraphs every year, no dating any foreigners. In fact, they encourage dating within the agency; it keeps things within the circle of trust, you could say." He wiggled his eyebrows at me and asked, "Any men you find attractive so far? C'mon, I know you had to have spotted _some_ sort of eye candy around here."

I laughed and nudged him playfully. "You may be blind, Iggy, but your sense of humor definitely makes up for it."

"Why, thank you!" Iggy chuckled, and we turned around a corner. The scent of food hit me like a brick wall, and I inhaled deeply. It was like I just entered _food heaven. _"Food court is on your left, and—"

"There's a _Starbucks_ in here?" I exclaimed in disbelief, spotting it in the food court. These guys were living the life!

Iggy laughed, just as—_hello—_Sam appeared out of nowhere and joined us. "Imagine a year of background checks, just to get the barista's job," Sam mused, talking to me as if Iggy wasn't even present. "Hey—how are the legs? You know, a bag of frozen peas would help keep the swelling down," he said with a wink. Obviously he knew Iggy was giving me the grand tour.

Unsure of what to say, I smiled and politely said, "Thanks…I'll keep that in mind."

Iggy, thank the lord, chimed in. "From the mindless, yet _vaguely_ sexual banter, I take it you've already met Sam Wilcox."

"SAM!" I jumped as a loud voice practically _boomed_ across the room. "_Let's GO!_ We have work to do," a man barked to Sam, not even pausing to glance at me and Iggy as he rushed by with several other people on his tail. I knew _exactly_ who that man was.

Sam smirked as I looked at him in surprise. "Duty calls. Can't keep our DCS waiting. Welcome to the CIA, Max," he said, before taking off after Jeb.

Once he was out of earshot, I turned to Iggy. "Sam works for _Jeb Batchelder?"_ I asked, doubtful. I'd heard about him at the Farm. He was _the_ DCS: the Director of Clandestine Services; basically the head honcho of _everything_ and _everyone_.

Iggy sighed in response. "Yep. And he sure acts like it."

A few minutes later, Iggy stopped us in front of a pair of glass doors that said _Domestic Protection Division. _ "I do believe this is our stop. If you take a look, you'll see we are technically on the second floor of the DPD. A set of stairs will lead you down to the main floor, where all DPD agents have their own desks. You should as well. On our level, you'll notice the offices lining the right wall. Mine is the Tech Ops room, next to Valencia Martinez's office. She is head honcho of this department, and she's _our boss_."

Iggy was explaining to me the layout as he walked me inside. We were, as he said, on the upper level, but it had more of a balcony feel because I could peer over the glass railing to see the workplace on the main floor down below.

"Domestic Protection Division?" I asked, observing the first floor some more. Agents were scrambling about, seeming as if everyone was frantically working on something important. "I haven't heard of this place before."

"Good," a voice said. "That's how we like it to be."

I whirled around to face a woman of medium height. She was light-skinned, with dark brown hair that went passed her shoulders, and brown eyes. "Maximum Ride, I presume. Why don't you step into my office? We have business to discuss."

"Oh—okay," I said, kind of stunned I was overheard by my boss.

Iggy and I followed Valencia, but Iggy bailed and headed into his Tech Ops office.

"Wait, you're not coming in with me?" I asked, pausing in his doorway.

He chuckled and sat down at his desk. I noticed the keyboard to his computer had an extra strip with bumpy metal bits on its surface—a brail keyboard, I assumed. "Oh, I'm not going in there if I don't have to," Iggy answered. "You'll do just fine. Valencia is a reasonable woman. She'll get you settled in."

I sighed, said "Okay," and headed into Valencia's office.

"Pleased to meet you Max—may I call you that?" Valencia asked, extending a hand in greeting across her desk. We both sat down.

The handshake was brief, but not too brief. "Max is fine. Can you tell me why I'm here, Ms. Martinez?"

"Please call me Valencia," she said. "Do you know what we do here, Max?"

"Uh…no" was my brilliant response. Aren't I a charmer, folks?

"Every global threat that finds its way past our borders is dealt with here. We—"

"Valencia—" A man—no, a _boy—_burst into Valencia's office. He couldn't be more than fifteen, sixteen tops. I wonder how he could possibly be working here… "Sorry for the interruption. Iggy decrypted the intel we gathered on Vlad."

"Thank you, Gazzy." Valencia nodded and stood, motioning for me to do the same. "I am sorry, but it seems we are in a hurry. Follow me."

I hurried after her as we entered Iggy's office; I noticed Gazzy working side-by-side with Iggy. I'm guessing he was a tech operative, too.

Projected onto one wall was an image of what Iggy was looking at on his computer screen. On it, I saw a grainy image of a man.

"Can you clear up that image, Iggy?" Valencia asked, crossing her arms as she focused on the projected man.

"On it," Iggy responded. His fingers flew across the keyboard, sometimes brushing the brail strip. He picked up a set of headphones and put them on his head, focusing intently. Seconds later, the grainy image cleared up, allowing us to identify the man. He had curly black hair, light skin, and eastern European features.

"He looks almost Russian," I thought aloud.

Valencia turned to me, slightly impressed. "He is. The man's name is Vladimir Petrova. This photo was taken a while back, when he was a prisoner in Siberia. He made a deal with the FSB, Russia's security service. He soon became their top operative, a skilled assassin, wanted in fourteen countries, and is now _ours._ He came out of the cold just two days ago and he wants to talk."

"Talk?" I asked doubtfully. A man this dangerous hardly seems like the type to just wanna chat with some other country. "Talk about—"

"About the FSB. He is currently unhappy with their change in protocol and wants to provide us with a list of their future targets in exchange for protection and compensation."

"It doesn't hurt to hold a grudge in the spy game," Iggy muttered under his breath.

Okay. Big, bad Russian assassin, good with his weapons…or maybe he doesn't even need weapons…oh _God._ "Alright…" I started, "where do I fit in?"

"You've been assigned as Vlad's handler," Valencia stated. "You are going to go to the hotel where we have him and wait for his call. Take this." She handed me a phone.

"A blackberry?" I said in disbelief. It looked _ancient_. For an agency that can provide a blind guy with a high tech cane and a personalized computer with a brail strip, I would think they could at least provide me with an iPhone or a Galaxy.

"Ah, but not _just_ a Blackberry!" Gazzy said from the other side of the office, waving his finger in the air as if he had an "Aha!" moment. "That blackberry is actually a highly efficient two way transponder that only _looks_ like a Blackberry."

I looked at him quizzically. What the hell was a transponder?

Iggy jumped in. "You have one, Vlad has one. You put the two devices together, press this button—" he showed me on the phone, "—and your phones will hot-sync. He will get the bank codes for his payment, and you will get the intel. That's it."

"That's it?" I asked. Just…put two phones together? This seemed too easy to me…something had to be up.

"That's it," Valencia repeated. "Nothing else. Don't drink with him, don't sleep with him."

She said _what?_ "You think I'd _sleep_ with him?" I said, taken aback.

Valencia eyed me carefully. "I think he'd sleep with _you,"_ she countered.

I frowned. "Did you call me in because I speak Russian?"

"Yes, and you could pass for a call girl."

A _call girl?_ "Wait, I look like a _hooker_ to you?" I exclaimed. Gazzy and Iggy snickered and I flicked the backs of their heads, eliciting two annoyed "Ow!"s.

"No, I said you could _pass_ for one," Valencia repeated.

My frown let up, but I was still a bit offended. "I'm surprised no one else around here could do that."

"There was. But she's gone—let's just leave it at that," Gazzy said darkly.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Gone? Just—_gone?_ How mysterious could we get, here?

I was about to press on, wanting to find out why the last girl couldn't complete this simple mission. But Valencia opened her mouth first. "Look, if you don't want the job, I can easily send you right back to the Farm."

"No, no, no!" I exclaimed, jumping right back into the game. I don't want to go back to the Farm when I already worked my way up to the heart of the action. If I could just pull this off, maybe I will be put on other, more _sophisticated_ cases. "I'll do it. I'm here. I can do it."

Valencia smirked, as if she knew I would take the job. She stepped closer. "This is a simple job. Just play the part." She reached forward and undid the top button of my white blouse, revealing a little more of my chest than I normally am comfortable with. She eyed my black suit-jacket and my black pencil skirt and nodded. "What you're wearing right now is fine; hookers in D.C. are normally pretty conservative."

"Gazzy and I will set Max up, Valencia," Iggy said, rolling his chair over to another desk.

"Good. Keep me posted," she said as she left the room.

"A hooker? Are you kidding me?" I said to Iggy and Gazzy. I was kind of annoyed that that was why I was picked off the Farm. I felt like my Russian linguistic skills weren't the primary reason, here.

"She pulled me out so she could toss a _newbie _in the mix?"

I turned around at the sound of this new voice.

A man stood leaning in the doorway. He was clad in all black—a fitting black tee, black jeans, black sneakers. Even his hair was black—a bit long, but again, _black!_

I don't care if he looked absolutely God-like, I didn't like the tone of his voice.

So I said, with an edge in my voice, "This _newbie_ has obviously got what it takes to get the intel, unlike _you."_

Mr. Tall, Dark, and Mysterious stepped over to us. His face was impassive, but I swear I saw his facials twitch with my retort. "You think you got what it takes to turn one of the most dangerous men in the world?"

"No, I _know_ I do. So what's your problem?" I asked bitterly. This guy's attitude was getting on my nerves. Only _I_ am the one who can hold the attitude, anywhere! Except maybe not with Valencia…

"My _problem_ is that I keep being told to stand down, and now they are throwing some _trainee_ in to do my mission," he said, even closer to me now. We stood a couple feet away from each other.

"Well sorry to wake you up, sleeping beauty, but maybe you need a reality check. Because it seems to me that clearly you aren't as skillful as you think you are," I spoke bitterly, narrowing my eyes up at him.

"I'll have you know I scored a _10_ on all my exams back on the Farm," he growled, leaning in close.

"Ha!" I placed my hands on my hips, grinning up at him smugly. "I'll have _you_ know that _I_ did, too!"

He jerked back and blinked. Is that surprise on his face? "That's not possible."

I rolled my eyes. Didn't he just say that he did it, as well? "Sure it is, Sherlock. Look up my records if you want."

"I hate to break up this love fest, but Max has to get going," Iggy said. "You two can settle your competition later."

Gazzy looked amused as he walked over to me, carrying what looked like a pager. "Head on over to the Capitol Grand Hotel. Wait in the Lounge area until this pager buzzes. Once it does, head up to Vlad's hotel room and proceed from there. We'll place a bug on you so we can keep tabs on you from a van outside."

I took the pager and nodded. "Wait in the Lounge for the pager to buzz. Just like waiting for a table at Friday's…" I muttered, trying to be optimistic.

"Alright people, let's move," Ig stated, getting up. "Fang, since this is still your mission, you can stay with us in the surveillance van."

"Oh great, I _love_ the van," this _Fang_ stated sarcastically.

"Fang? Your name is Fang?" I said with a laugh. "For real?"

"Oh I'm all real, sweetheart. Get that in your pretty little head right now," Fang said, looking at me with an expression so dark it sent chills up down my spine.

I played it off by rolling my eyes and began to exit the room. I stopped in the doorway and turned around. "Anybody want to wish me luck?"

I saw Iggy and Gazzy typing away on their computers; they both waved me off. "You don't seem like the type to need it!" Iggy called, making me chuckled.

I avoided Fang's stare as I left the office. Something about that guy was very off, and I was going to find out just what that was.

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><p><strong>Wow I didn't notice how much I typed, lol!<strong>

**Thanks for the reviews **myviolaismylife27, parityparable, pielover999, **and** Guest.

**Been a hectic school MONTH, but I'm back and ready to write more! Thank you all for not giving up on me. **

**More reviews would be motivating AND inspiring ;) let me know if you like how it's going so far! **


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